


Hard Lessons

by phantomchajo



Series: SilverHawks: Beta-Verse [7]
Category: SilverHawks
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomchajo/pseuds/phantomchajo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes a hard lesson to get a point across</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this was written on the message board by another writer. I lost the writer change points.

'Hard Lesson',

 

'“This is Ghost one, I have two green, all systems go.”

 “This is Ghost two, two green and go.”

 “All right Snowflake, listen up.”  Zan barked, as the two ships came out of hyperspace into a crowded battlefield.  Laser fire blasted from everywhere, and clouds of star fighters buzzed over the hull’s of the massive capital warships.  The huge Triangulon cruisers came into view first, massive vessels bristling with guns, their cannons blasting into the earth ships, most repelled by shields, but some impacting on hulls, plate armor buckling and explosions ripping through the interiors.

 “This,” Zan said as the two flew their fighters on an intercept course to the nearest Triangulon battle cruiser.  “Is the battle of Hal’s Stand.  Where Earth forces managed to repel the Triangulon forces.  You heard of it right?”

 “Of course,” came the brief, typical reply from the young German.   He was stoic and quiet, and rarely said more than he felt was necessary.  Which was probably for the best, since he had little regard for the feelings of others, and said whatever he was thinking.  “My father was here.”

 The statement took Zan aback, as she could never recall him mentioning anything about his family before.  Of course she had never asked, and honestly didn’t care, but still... “Pilot?” she asked curiosity overcoming her.

“Commando.  GSG9.  Part of the team that raided the Devil’s Hand.”

“Well lucky you, our task is to escort the transport ship to the  Hand.  You get to help your old man.”

“Just us two?”

“’Fraid so, that’s how it went down, after all.”

 Alex muttered something in what Zan assumed was German.  “Lovely.”

 A smile spread over her face, it may only be a simulation, but this is what she lived for.  “Let’s go!”

 “I have your wing,” Alex responded, as Zan peeled off, Alex following suit, the two angling in on the assault boat, heading into the maelstrom.

 Flight experience was an essential part of the Silverhawk training and since Zan was far and away the best pilot, well anywhere, she had been placed in charge of making sure the recruits could handle themselves in the air.  This time she was with Alex, who was a decent enough pilot, though she’d be lying if she said she got along with, or even liked him.

 She would never have to worry about him vaping her, but he could stand on his own if need be.  Today they were flying in a simulation of Hal’s Stand.  The last battle in the Triangulon Wars as well as the one that broke their back.  Earth and it’s allies casualties had been horrendous, four Earth Destroyers hand been lost and nearly six full wings of fighters had been downed.  It was marked as one of the bloodiest battles in Earth history.

 And these two were now right in the thick of it.

 Zan felt a familiar rumble as her X-70 Wyvern screamed through space, her HUD flashed to life and their assault boat was flagged in green, surrounded by hostiles, in red.  She loosened her grip on the stick and forced herself to take several deep breaths.

 “Now our primary objective is to protect the boat, engage at will, but do not–I repeat– do not break off from the boat.   Understood?”

 “I copy,” came the reply.

Zan could feel her heart fluttering as they dove straight for the sea of fighters “Here they come!” she shouted and then the enemy was upon them, and there was no time to talk.

 Zan kept a light hand on the stick, casually lining up a shot and a saucer shaped triangulon fighter closed in on them.  She squeezed the trigger and the Vulcan cannon located in the ship’s nose exploded, sending golden lines of fire racing the enemy craft, piercing it’s shields and causing the small ship to blow apart.

An alarm blared warning Zan that an enemy had a missile lock on her as Alex calmly warned her.  “Break starboard, lead.”

With hardly a moment’s thought, she pulled hard on the stick, forcing her Wyvern into a tight roll.  She saw a missile riding on a jet of blue flame streak past her into the oncoming flight of fighters.  They saw the danger to late, as the missile embedded itself deep in the lead craft’s nose.  The impact forced it off course, smashing into one of it’s buddies, before the missile exploded, ripping apart the two ships as well as a third who had wandered too close.

“Nice shot deuce!” Zan exclaimed, as she touched her foot to the rudder, turning port, raking fire over the prow of the fourth ship, burning holes in the bubble cockpit, the dome bursting deep-sixing the pilot as the craft spun off harmlessly.

“Thanks lead.” Alex responded a touch of pride in showing in his normally emotionless voice.  “Incoming fighters, 11 o’clock.  I’m on them.”

Ooh, starting to show some initiative Snowflake?,Zan thought to herself as she dropped back.  “I have your wing deuce.”

She opened up the throttled as Alex dipped his craft low, heading straight for the boat, pulling up and skimming over the hull.  From there he nudged the nose upward and fire lanced forth, gold lines filling the space between his craft, and two fighters who had gotten too close to the transport ship they were escorting.

The laser fire punctured the ships hull, transforming into a brilliant fireball as Zan lined up it’s wing man and likewise filling it with fire.  That ship however, juked at the last second, Zan’s shots going wide.

She growled with annoyance and followed it, keeping her finger on the trigger. She lightly nudged the stick and bracketed the fleeing ship in her cross-hairs.

“Got ya!” she whispered before pumping screaming kilo-joules of energy into the fleeing craft’s back end.  It exploded in a brilliant shower of sparks. “How ya like that!?” Zan cackled as her sleek craft flew the debris cloud the dying fighter left behind it.

The debris crackled against her shields, blinding her with tiny flashes of light, while Alex took the rational, i.e. sissy route, and flew around the cloud.  “Nice shot lead,” Alex grudgingly admitted.  Before Zan could gloat further his voice took on a more urgent tone.  “Behind you.”

Even has the words crackled over the com, Zan was pulling hard on the stick, rolling Starboard , Alex on her wing.  Laser fire flashed into the spots they had just been, the HUD showing the two ships flagged in red, has staying in perfect formation as they flew in on their tails.  “Lead I don’t think they’re ‘bots.  These two are real.” Alex said as the two began firing rapidly, red lines arcing through space on the two trainees.

“I think you’re right,” Zan muttered to herself.  “On me,” she instructed leveling about and diving down deep.  “They want to chase us?  Let ‘em.”

“I copy,” was the response as Alex settled back on her port side, following her as she inverted the craft and pulled back, letting her Wyvern skim over the assault boats hull, and down under it’s ventral side.

Their esteemed competition were flying Triangulon fighters, nicknamed “plates” by their Earth counterparts for their saucer shaped, round bodies.  Plates were flat, wide ships, with large exposed bubble cockpits.  While the ships were quick and nimble, they had minimal armament, two laser cannons, and no shields, light weaponry for a race that prided itself on brute force.

 Wyverns on the other, while not as quick or maneuverable, and had shields, a huge advantage, allowing Wyverns take tremendous beatings and keep fighting.  They also boasted the Vulcan cannons, Gatling guns located in the nose of the craft, capable of firing nearly 300 rounds a minute.  In addition each carried six concussion missiles, giving the Wyvern’s a huge advantage in raw firepower.  So while the X-70s couldn’t outrun the plates, they would out in a fist fight.

 “Okay listen up Snowflake,” Zan said, a plan forming in the deep recesses of her mind.  “On my mark, roll on to your port wing and loop around.  Paint these hotshots with a missile lock and let’s see em outrun those!”

“What if they have lock detection?”  Alex asked.

“They don’t,” Zan sneered, “or have you forgotten that missile of yours that took out three plates?”

 “But I didn’t lock them,” Alex explained.

 “That was a blind shot?!” Zan exclaimed, her jaw dropping a few inches.  Blind shots were missile locks made without the assistance of a target computer.  Missiles were notoriously difficult to aim, and blind shots were only called on for extreme measures and only then when the target was rather big, like a capital ship.  To make a blind hit, on a single fighter, from range... Zan was going to have to keep an eye on him.

 “Affirmative,” Alex’s voice came confirming her suspicions.  “So if they have TLD(target lock detection)?”

“Then wing it!” Zan snapped.  “Mark!”

 On her worked Alex flipped his craft on its port wing and pulled back on the stick, while Zan rolled starboard and did the same.  The two craft circled out wide before zeroing in on the two plates who had anticipated the move and had split themselves, each heading out in different direction.

 “They want to split us,” Alex stated.

 “Gee, ya think!?”  Zan spat.  “Stay on me,” she instructed following her target.

 “I copy,” came the expected response as he formed up on her.

 Zan opened the throttle and took off after the feeling ship.  She switched fire control over to missiles and dropped her targeting reticle over the plate’s aft.  The reticle went green and a tone sounded her cockpit.  Almost immediately the plate juked, breaking the lock.  “God dammit,” Zan moaned, switching her weapons back over to guns, and using the cannon to light up his aft.  He kept well out of range and an idea came to Zan.

“Snowflake, try to get a lock on this guy. I’ll keep him busy,” she explained to him, using her cannon.  Predictably the pilot juked slipping left and right as Alex tried to slap a TL on him and with Zan sending laser shots at him his movements were limited, it was only a matter of time.

“Got him.” Alex declared, before a huge flash of green lit up the sky between to two fighters. Zan winced in spite of herself, and the light was gone as quickly as it came.  “Still with me deuce?” she asked.

 Silence answered her.  Whatever the hell that was, a turbo laser blast most likely, it had taken Alex with it.

 “Fat lot of help you were,” she muttered, tightening her finger on the trigger and shoving her throttle as far forward as it would go.

“What the hell?!” Alex cursed, slamming his fist down on the lifeless controls as the simulator screen went black and the cockpit hissed open, infusing the stuffy cabin with much needed air.  But it did little to soothe the angry cadets mood.  And angry was something he rarely let himself become.

 “Terrible luck, cadet” a voice said as Alex doffed his helmet and climbed down from the simulator.  He walked around the back of the sim, and saw a familiar figure standing by a large monitor that showed the holographic battle in progress.

 “General Rawlings!” Alex snapped to attention, stuffing his helmet under one arm.

“At ease, cadet” the General instructed.

“That was a turbo laser blast that got you,” Rawlings explained.  “Freak thing actually. One in a million chance. Wrong place at the wrong time.”

“ I didn’t even see a damn thing,” Alex muttered.

“Of course not.  Blast was too powerful, destroyed your shield and melted your ship before you even knew you were hit.” Rawlings said, watching the battle unfold.  “This takes me back,”  he mused.  “I was there you know.  Hal’s Stand.  Lost a lot of friends.  Good soldiers.  Every one of ‘em.”

Rawlings turned a misty eye over Alex, a sad smile on his face.  “I was on that shuttle with your father.  Saved me you know.  Triangulon fire pinned us down on the Devil’s Hand.  I was knocked down and when I looked up a saw one the squat bastard’s right above me.  Thought I was dead, when an arm reached around and opened up his throat.  Never seen a Triangle taken down with a knife before... Man never told me his name, but... You don’t forget eyes like those,” He explained, pointing to Alex’s own eyes.

“Is that why you wanted me on the team?” Alex asked, narrowing his eyes.  “Because of my father?”

“Of course not,” Rawlings said, turning his gaze back to Zan’s dogfight watching as the plate corkscrewed away from her, golden bolts raining down around it, but unable to hit the nimble ship.  “He had something to do with it though.  You qualified on your own, you had the numbers, the training, and the skill to be a valuable asset to this team.  But when it came to choosing just one person out of many qualified candidates, then yes I remembered your father.  Even if you’re only half the man he was, then you’re somebody I NEED on my team.”

“Thank you sir,” Alex responded, and unfamiliar blush rising to his face.

“Tell me, cadet,” Rawlings said slapping Alex on the arm.  “What do you think of Captain Wolfstorm?”

“Well, she’s an excellent pilot, “ he said pointing to the screen where she was pulling her Wyvern threw a loop so tight it put the existence of inertia into doubt.  “She’s also uh... determined, focused.  And she’s got a mean right hook, or so I’m told.”

“Good answer,” Rawlings said smirking.  “But how do you really feel?”

“Permission to speak freely?”

Rawlings nodded, still smirking.  Alex took a deep breath and steeled himself.  “The only thing bigger than her ego is her mouth,” he blurted out.

Rawlings chuckled.  “Yes well, she has no shortage of self-confidence.  Nor is she afraid to share it with others.  But I would suggest her determination is a bit misplaced wouldn’t you?”

“How so?”

 “Well what is she doing right now?”  Rawlings asked, crossing his arms as he watched the continuing simulation.

 “Trying her damnedest to down a damn good pilot.” Alex answered, watching as she performed another tight roll, but she was unable to shake the pilot that clung to her tail.

“See the problem there?”

 Alex glanced at the General, who’s face betrayed nothing.  “Can’t say that I do, sir” Alex said watching the dogfight.

Rawlings tsked disapprovingly.  “Look harder Geist!  What is she NOT doing?”

Alex stared hard at the monitor for a minute or two before the answer came to him.  “She’s not protecting the boat.”

“Exactly!” Rawlings exclaimed snapping his fingers with excitement.  “She’s so focused on a pilot that might be better than her she’s not following the main objective, and has left the boat undefended!  Your father and myself with it!  This was a test and I’m afraid it doesn’t look like she’s going to pass.”

“What if she shoots down the pilot?” Alex inquired, watching as she broke hard starboard, the plate still fast on her tail.

“Unlikely,” Rawlings stated “and irrelevant.  The objective was to protect the boat, not down a pilot.  Though if she managed to down him, I’ll be very, very surprised.  He was flown in special, to teach Cpt. Wolfstorm a lesson.  A hard lesson, but one that must be learned.”

“And what’s that?”

 Rawlings smiled and turned to Alex.  “No matter how good you are...”

 “...there’s always somebody better,” Alex finished.

Rawlings smile grew wider.  “You’re learning.”

Alex smiled inwardly, suddenly quite sure that the laser blast that took him out of the sim was anything but random.  But that thought couldn’t keep the smile from spreading to his face, as he tucked as sweat soaked lock of hair behind his ear.  It would be extremely gratifying to watch Miss High-and-mighty get her ego knocked down a peg or three.

 “Wait for it....” Alex mumbled as the Zan’s X-70 was engulfed in the fire from her own missiles.  He held up his hand and did a count down with his fingers.  Sure enough when his hand closed into a fist, a gamut of curses filled the air, followed by a smashed helmet that crashed to ground at Rawlings’ feet.

 “What the hell was that about?!” A very angry Zan demanded as she stalked into view, her features’ twisted into the very picture of rage.

 Rawlings glanced down at the smashed helmet then glanced up as Zan stormed towards him, her fists clenched.  “Congratulations, Cpt. Wolfstorm.  On your complete and utter failure.”

 “Failure?  Give me another shot, I’ll down that guy for sure!”

“What guy?  You’re task was to protect the boat!  Which was destroyed by the way! Or do you even care?”

Zan’s eyes narrowed as she pieced things together, “You set me up!”

 “Set you up?  You bet your ass I set you up!”

Zan’s eyes were filled with murder, her fist were clenched and she growled, her teeth bared.  “So you intended to humiliate me?”

 “I intended to see if you would follow orders!  You humiliated yourself!”

 “What the hell is that supposed to mean, you fat son of a–”

“Stop right there Cadet Wolfstorm.  And think about what you’re going to say.  I’ve cut you a lot of slack, and let you slide on what I’d write others up for.  But I am fast running out of patience for your adolescent displays of independence.  You are a soldier!  It’s high time you started acting like one.  I’ve given you a lot of rope.  Do not hang yourself with it!”

Zan glared fiercely at the older man, trembling with rage, on the verge of exploding. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Permission denied.”  The general said.  “You don’t have to like your orders.  But I do expect you to follow them.”

Zan didn’t care.  “It was just a sim,” she growled.

“And if it hadn’t been a sim?  Would do you like to console the widows and orphans?  Tell them how your pride dictated you abandon your post?  Why Alex’s father was on that boat, he won’t even be born.”

 “And that’s a bad thing?”

 Alex glared at her, “Fotze!”

“What was that, Snowflake!?  You got something you want to say?!”  She shouted taking a step forward, Alex made a move but Rawlings put out a restraining hand across his chest.

Any further actions were cut off as a man rounded the corner, whistling.  He was a Silverhawk, clad in blue armor, a red bandana was tied around his neck, and tan cowboy hat topped  his head.  “Howdy!” he greeted, an easy smile on his face, tipping his hat to the trio.

“You lost hayseed?” Zan growled, easing off Alex and rising to her full height.

“Capt Wolfstorm,” Rawlings said, drawing her attention.  “This is Col. Bluegrass, a Silverhawk from Limbo galaxy.  Pass you training and you’ll be working together.”

 “Thrilled,” Zan replied drolly.  “You’re the pilot aren’t you?  You shot me down!  Let’s go!  Right now!  I want a rematch!”

Bluegrass tipped his hat cordially, “Any time you want to go, you just holler.  But I imagine you want to fly against the one that shot you down.”

“You mean you didn’t...?” Zan asked her face etched in confusion.

“Nope.  I was the one that shot down the boat you so graciously left undefended.  But hell, anyone coulda done that.” He said walking past her and stepping up to Alex.  “I saw that shot you made, earlier.  Three ships with a blind shot?  That’s some fancy shooting!”

“Uh thank you sir,” Alex said, blushing fiercely and staring at his feet.

 “Well if it wasn’t you, then who's the sumbitch that shot me down!?!”

 “I would be that sumbitch,” a gruff voice said, as another figure stepped into view.

“Commander Stargazer,” General Rawlings said giving a tip of his head.  “You’re looking well.”

 “And you’re looking well fed,” Stargazer cracked as he extended his hand, which the general graciously accepted.  “How’s Martha?”

“She’s fine, still as good a cook as ever!” he replied, slapping his ample paunch for effect.

“Commander Stargazer?” Zan asked arching an eyebrow at the old man.  “I got shot down by a damned fossil?!”

 “Shot down?  You were schooled,” Alex muttered under his breath, not backing down from Zan’s angry glare.

“Old fossil, huh?’ Stargazer chuckled as he rubbed his chin.  “Well this old fossil was shooting his way through space before you were swimming in your daddy’s... well that’s better left unsaid.  Haven’t flown in a while though, I’m a bit rusty.”

 “A bit rusty?” Zan repeated her jaw hanging open.

 “You might think about closing that before it attracts flies,” Bluegrass joked.

“Oh , you’re good Captain, probably give the cowboy a run for his money.  But... I’ve downed better.”

“That so?” she grumbled, staring daggers at Bluegrass.

“Ah, Hals’ Stand.  Where I earned the name Barnstormin’ Bert.  ’Course I wasn’t flying a fighter by then, but an old Starfire battle cruiser, and there it is,” he said pointing to a ship on the view screen still showing the raging battle.  “The Polaris.  Good ship, sturdy as they come.

“So these are two of the new recruits, eh?” Stargazer said , turning away from the view screen, and looking over the two cadets, pausing when he reached Alex.  He stared at the youth for a moment, his mechanical eye clicking and whirling as it focused.  “I’d recognize those eyes anywhere! You’re Reinhardt’s kid aren’t you?”

 “Guilty,” Alex said, mumbling.  “Does everyone around here know who my dad is?”

“Know him?  Hard to forget him!”  Stargazer laughed.  “Old Ragin’ Reinhardt.  Would’ve taken the Triangulon Admiral’s head home on a pike, if they’d let him.”

 “Ragin’ Reinhardt?”  Alex said, the name obviously new to him.

 “You never heard of Ragin’ Reinhardt?” Bluegrass asked skeptically.

 “Even I’ve heard that name,” Zan muttered, leaning against a bulkhead, arms crossed in front of her.

 “My dad doesn’t like talking about Hal’s Stand.  All I know is that he was on the assault team that raided the Devil’s Hand.”

“Which isn’t really true,” Rawlings said.  Alex glanced at him.  “He LED that assault team.”

“It’s not that surprising he hasn’t told you,” Stargazer said.  “Heard he mellowed a lot when he became a dad.  Resigned his commission.  I guess he didn’t want you to know what he did.”

Zan smiled evilly.  “I guess if I had carved out an Admiral’s heart with a knife, I wouldn’t want my son to know.”

All the heads turned to the raucous cadet.  “What?”  She asked innocently.  “He would’ve found out eventually.”

 “I knew he killed people.   And I know that he’s not proud of it. I never knew he cut a man’s heart out.  That would explain why he doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Well he was damn good soldier,” Stargazer told him.  “I’ll be expecting good things from you.  You too Wolfstorm.  You’ll be a pretty good pilot, if you keep flying like you did today.”

 "She'll be a wonderful pilot," a cool voice said, "always assuming, of course, that she gets over this habit of blowing herself up."

 Zan whirled, glaring as Aurora walked over to join them.  "I'll do that as soon as you get over blowing chunks every time I fly.  I almost-"

 "You flew right into the path of your own weapon.  That was PISS poor planning on your part, and you know it."

 Zan stepped back immediately, head ducked a fraction.  "Yeah, well, next time..."

 Aurora nodded.  "Next time.  And next time, watch the damned freighter, please?  What am I supposed to do, writing letters of condolence to all those families?"

 "All right, all right.  Enough already.  You and your damned 'voice of reason,'" Zan griped.

 "And here is the captain's keeper, Cadet Buchanan," Rawlins said, introducing her around.

 "You chase after Wolfstorm here?" Stargazer asked.

 "When I can keep up.  Or when she'll let me.  Zan, I have a meeting in Admin later.  But I can do four hours up tomorrow if you want it."

 Zan nodded, and Aurora shook hands all around again.  "Good to meet you gentlemen.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm close to unforgivably late."  She nodded to Zan and left, heading for the large Admin building at the front of the main campus.

 "Four hours are damned well better than being ground bound," Zan muttered loudly to herself. "Better be prepared Onee-chan, We're taking the Yukikaza up!" Zan yelled at Aurora's departing back, a smirk curling her lips up. Already planning the flight path in the back of her mind.

 Moving from where she stood, she retrieved her helmet, her mind focusing on other thoughts then the men around her. "Bloody fucking hell... cracked it," she said to herself as she ran a finger along the top of it before reaching up and running a hand through her sweat tangled hair. Fingers coming away red tinted. "Damn that will hurt later," She could already feel a migraine coming on as well.

 Without even a wave good bye, muchless a proper salute she turned and started walking away towards the hangers where the trainer jets were kept. "Bloody god-damned,lousy,pissy-assed, measly 4 to 20 hours a month, if I'm lucky... after being grounded for almost three years straight. I'm in hell, I just know it..." The rest of what she was saying trailed off the farther she moved away.


End file.
